


The Distance Between Us

by MorningGlory2



Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: 24 and 38, Age Difference, Always use condoms, Angst, Dirty Talk, Everyone Is A Consenting Adult, F/M, Female Reader, Smut, casual sex turns into feelings, cursing, multi position sex, these two do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningGlory2/pseuds/MorningGlory2
Summary: “What birthday is this anyway? I don’t think I asked,” he inquired as he sat next to you in the roomy Towncar. You sipped your champagne and replied easily.“Twenty-four!” You exclaimed with proud excitement. You hadn’t expected the widening of his eyes in surprise.“You’re twenty-three?” he asked then. You nodded.“Mmhmm. Have been all year,” you teased. He still looked surprised and then dropped his eyes to smooth his shirt. You grew weary. “Is that a..problem?”“I’m going to be thirty-nine this year,” he informed you as if you didn’t already know. “I remember twenty-four very well. But that was a long time ago.”





	The Distance Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission for supersoldiersruined-me on tumblr <3 She was so sweet to commission me with this idea and then was so patient while it took me forever to complete (okay about six weeks but still). This was actually very fun to write and explore. Thank you for the opportunity hun and thank you to G and Riley for their constant help!!! It takes a village, amirite?! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!

The bar was crowded for a Thursday night. Something about a hot summer day in Boston with a Red Sox home game against the Yankees, you were sure. Sipping your third drink, you laughed at something your friend said, glad you had two seats at the bar and you weren’t four deep trying to get a drink. Perks of arriving early before the end of happy hour, you were also sure. You knew your way around your city--you knew what nights would be busy out and about. 

As your friend excused herself to use the ladies room, you occupied yourself on your phone, checking emails and missed texts as the busy night roared around you. A three day weekend was calling your name, no need to rush home to bed for once. It was the perfect night to enjoy a cold refreshing cocktail at a dive bar. Perks of single life too -- no one to have to rush home to. 

A shuffle next to you caught your eye and you glanced up, meeting the gaze of the person beside you. “This seat taken?” he asked, eyes kind and questioning under the brim of his Red Sox cap. His smile was lopsided with a slight dimple to his cheek and you recognized him almost immediately, though your reaction didn’t give that away because you were already gesturing before you realized. 

“Yeah, my friend. She just went to the ladies’ room, she’ll be right back,” you explained quickly, giving him your own smile because, despite his handsome face and identity, you weren’t giving up your friend’s barstool. He nodded, seeming to understand as he laughed. 

“Ah. No problem. I’ll order a few beers for myself and my buddies and get out of your way,” he nodded in that way men do when they’re bowing out and you smiled with a wave of your hand, signaling him to order away. The bartender came and went with his order and as he waited, elbows on the bar, his gaze drifted back to you. You could feel it since he was so close to you, your shoulders practically touching as the bar was packed. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, causing you to lift your eyes and eyebrows in question because you surely hadn’t heard him correctly. “A drink,” he repeated, “Whatcha havin’?”

That Boston accent was a dime a dozen around the city but that didn’t change the way it charmed you as it slipped off his tongue. “Vodka soda, please. Tito’s.” You had your standards and you weren’t about to drink well liquor if that’s what he ordered you. His grin grew. 

“Good choice. I also like that you have a preference. You live around here?” 

“Chestnut Hill,” you replied, angling a little more toward him because if he was going to buy you a drink and you were going to chat, you weren’t about to be rude. “What about you?” 

“Concord, actually,” he explained, “I just met a few friends down here to watch the game and grab some food,” he pointed behind him to a handful of guys pointing at the television and obviously very engrossed in their conversation, paying him no mind. “Chris,” he extended his hand awkwardly toward you thanks to the small space and you took it, smiling as you squeezed his and introduced yourself. Your friend returned as the bartender set your drink down along with the beers Chris had ordered and the introductions continued. He apologized for being in her space but she graciously told him it was no problem as it really wasn’t. He gathered the bottlenecks in his long fingers and shot you a direct smile, your eyes meeting. “See you later,” he acknowledged and you nodded with a small  _ sure, see ya _ . 

Your friend watched him go as you fussed with your lime, prepared for the words that were about to fly out of her mouth any second. “That was --”

“I know.”

“He was--”

“I know.”

“He bought you  _ a drink _ !” she sputtered, whisper yelling as she slid back onto her seat. 

“I  _ know _ ! I was here for it, remember?” you laughed at her but inside you could feel your inner celebrity fangirl having a moment. “He was very kind and I’m sure he only bought me a drink because he was buying drinks and he knew he was holding up your spot,” you rationalized because why else would Chris freaking Evans buy you a drink? There was no other reasonable explanation. 

“I think he bought you a drink because he’s still looking over here at you,” she replied, making you almost choke on your first,  _ strong _ , sip. You coughed a little, looking at her with furrowed brows. 

“What?” you managed through you coughs, rubbing your chest as the vodka went down with a familiar burn. 

“Look slow and casual over your shoulder. The boy isn’t being subtle,” she remarked with an almost smug grin. You counted to thirty before glancing and sure enough, your eyes met again. You blushed instantaneously as he smiled and gave a two-finger wave with the hand that held his beer.  _ Oh, okay _ , you thought to yourself as you considered your next move, suddenly very self-conscious. “See?” she hissed. You nodded, glancing up at the game to see Mookie Betts hit a grand slam, the bar erupting. It felt somewhat comforting, as though the cheers hid your burning cheeks and your own inner screaming. 

“I do,” you replied, “What am I supposed to do with that?” 

“Well, he’s with his boys so maybe wait until you have a good moment and approach?” she suggested, also watching the screen. You shook your head. 

“Nope, I’m not  _ that _ girl,” you were quick to respond, “I am  _ not  _ walking up to  _ that _ guy, ever. He can come to me if he’s  _ that  _ interested.” 

“He can, huh?” the voice on the other side of you said. Your stomach dropped and you closed your eyes as your friend snickered beside you. “Unless you weren’t talking about me, which would make this very embarrassing,” Chris laughed from the seat he’d claimed quickly beside you. Licking your lips and gathering yourself, you chanced a glance at him where he leaned against the bar, elbow propping him up as he waved the bartender over for another beer. He offered to buy your friend a drink this time too. 

“We were talking about you,” your traitor of a friend confirmed with a laugh after giving her gin and tonic order. 

“Okay so I’m not overstepping,” he replied with a chuckle, “That’s good news. May I join you?” 

Glancing at your friend, who was nodding and elbowing you like this was your crush asking to have lunch with you in high school, you laughed and turned toward him with a nod. “Of course.” 

The night went from there and the flirtation with you was immediate. He was charming, funny and kept your friend involved until she excused herself to meet up with a guy she’d been seeing an hour after Chris joined you. He insisted on picking up her tab, shaking her hand as she said her goodbyes. You appreciated his friendliness and his thoughtfulness as she hugged you and squeaked in your ear something about  _ hook up with him _ . You brushed her off and sent her on her way but the look he was giving you when you turned back toward him made you wonder if that was actually on the table. 

Turns out -- it was. 

\------

Your back was pressed up against your bedroom wall and how you got there was a bit of a blur. It was hours after you'd met in the bar, several drinks later. When he'd finally suggested you two get out of there, you'd been beyond ready and suggested your place. He nodded, paid the tab like a gentleman and let you lead the way. He'd even asked for a drink upon arrival, letting you set the pace. You didn't deny him -- a beer got lost somewhere in the living room -- but you mounted his lap as he'd sat on your couch, showing your true intent. He was game, hands coming up to touch you slowly, savoring as he kissed you back hungrily. 

Now Chris was truly in charge, one hand fondling your exposed breast and the other propping himself up over you against the wall as he kissed you breathless. He had a way with his mouth, experienced lips devouring yours. He was vocal, groans and curses slipping freely from his lips as he pulled the other side of your bra down, pinching your other erect nipple gently, eliciting a moan from your own lips. 

You tried to memorize how soft his hair was as you raked your fingers through it. He was big, broad and masculine, and you felt small under his hands. A crisp, clean scent invaded your senses with a hint of cigarette smoke from one time he’d dipped outside to steal a cigarette from a friend. You didn’t taste it on him now but you were too lost in him to care. You pulled at his flannel, yanking it over his head. You made a noise of distaste at the white tank top underneath. He laughed where he nibbled the swell of your breast. 

“In a rush?” he picked his head up with a cheeky grin. You pulled your own shirt over your head, watching his eyes drift down as his grin stayed intact. You removed your bra next, chucking it off toward your dresser. 

“Nah. Just anxious to even the playing field,” you replied, giving him a sassy look. He chuckled and pulled the tank top over his head. You took a minute to appreciate his naked upper half, tattoos adorning the freckled skin, covering the muscular expanse of his chest. Your fingers danced over the designs on their own accord and he didn’t stop you. 

“Like them?” he asked curiously, regarding you as you regarded his skin. You nodded. 

“They’re beautiful,” you breathed, feeling the need to have him somehow tenfold at the sight of the ink. The pads of your fingers drifted over them until he took your hand, pressing those fingers to his lips softly. You  _ ached _ . 

“C’mere,” he murmured and just like that your lips were together again and you were kissing madly, absorbing each other as much as possible, bare chest to bare chest. 

The room felt hot, stifling almost as the back of his knees hit your bed. At just the right height, he sat down on it and you were very pleased with yourself that you’d made it that morning. A usual occurrence, but you were grateful to yourself nonetheless. Chris Evans seeing your unmade bed might have put a damper on the mood. 

When he laid back, you went easily with him, your bodies melding together. He was soft, hands gentle and smooth as he touched your skin, stroking your back as he kissed you deeply. It was a bit messy probably, but you didn’t mind at the moment. He was giving you one hundred percent of his attention and you were basking in it. 

Soft but sure palms settled themselves over your bare breasts and you whined at the heat that coursed through you. Every nerve ending was over firing as he flicked your nipples and squeezed the full flesh. Your moans weren’t quiet and he didn’t ask them to be, only encouraging your sounds with a low, rumbling, “That’s it, let me hear you.” As if you weren’t already soaked before, your panties were absolutely useless now. 

This wasn’t like you -- falling into bed with a man so quickly. One night stands were not your regular fare. But he was so damn witty and too damn charming. What’s a girl to do when faced with such an invitation?

His mouth replaced his hands and that changed the pace for you. Suddenly you  _ needed _ him inside you, needed the relief, the feeling of being  _ full _ . Grinding down onto the hardon beneath you, still encased in jeans, told you that you would not be disappointed. 

Leaning back reluctantly, his mouth coming off your nipple with an audible  _ pop _ , you struggled to your legs, a bit drunk on the liquor and him. Swaying, you watched him watch you, propped up on his elbows as you shimmied out of your own jeans, sliding your black panties down your thighs. When you glanced up, you found him staring at you with blatant hunger and your stomach flipped in anticipation. 

“Fuckin’ hot,” he murmured, reaching out with one hand to touch your hip as you moved closer. Your fingers went straight to his button and zipper. 

“Talking about yourself now, huh?” You teased because by God this man was scorching. Bearded, the long-gone hat having revealed fluffy hair underneath. A broad chest adorned with tattoos down to a fit but  _ normal _ stomach, the Adonis belt still somewhat visible but a charming amount of squish covered by just the right amount of hair appearing up from his jeans. 

“All you, sweetheart,” he all but groaned as you released his hard length from its confines, pulling the jeans down his thighs and off. Commando.  _ Fuck _ .  _ Yes _ . “Usually I do the undressing,” he remarked, a charming smile on his face. 

“I know what I want,” you breathed, taking a full inventory of what you'd be having this evening. It was everything you'd have expected and more. 

“And you're impatient,” he remarked, roaring up to a sitting position and pulling you down with ease, your back hitting the bed before you knew what had happened. He was suddenly over you, caging you in with big arms and there was no question who was in charge now. “Which I like, a lot.  _ Fun _ ,” he stressed, licking up your neck. You shivered. “But we can't rush into the main event, I haven't even gotten to enjoy you really yet,” he dropped his mouth to yours in a sweet kiss, one that made your back arch up off the bed, begging for more. 

Your hands clutched his bare back and your legs tried to wrap around his waist and pull his naked body flush against you. He chuckled into your mouth, keeping his hips in the air. “ _ Patience _ ,” he whispered into your lips before letting them begin to wander. 

His lips wandered down your body, kissing down over several spots on your body. He hovered over your stomach, gave a few well-placed bites before moving on, leaving your squirming. You knew by the time he reached your core you’d likely be soaking the bed in anticipation and need. 

His kissed and licked against your hip bone and let two fingers slide against your folds. It was sinful, the way he stroked, the way he curiously touched you. You moaned as your back arched off the bed and you pressed your hips forward in agony, wanting so badly to be touched thoroughly. 

He grinned up, eyelashes for days flickering in the dull light as he let two fingers slip inside you. It was a good fit, just the right stretch and you moaned into it as your eyes fell shut. You felt him move but you weren’t anticipating the tongue to your clit until it was there and flattened against it, making you jerk and mewl. You felt his chuckle as he settled down and made sure you lost your damn mind before anything else happened. 

He ate like a hungry man, starved even. He was thorough and sure, obviously well-taught and experienced. It shouldn’t have been such a turn on, knowing he had his fair share of women but something about it made you gush around the fingers expertly assaulting you. They thrust in time with his tongue, rotated as he sucked you, stroked your walls when he latched on without a care for your squirms. He held you down as your hips bucked and thrust toward his face, one strong arm securing you to the bed. It was too much and yet just exactly what you needed and as the coil inside you snapped, you cried his name aloud, letting it bounce off the walls with zero regard for your neighbors. You saw stars for a brief moment as he carried you down and left you boneless on the bed for a brief moment. 

You opened your eyes to find him wiping his beard off with his undershirt and something about it was ridiculously sexy. You felt your body thrumming once more as if it needed no reprieve. You had a gorgeous view of his naked body, on his knees and you drank it in happily as your heart rate settled. He just grinned like he knew you liked what you saw and he was proud of it. 

“Condoms, bottom drawer,” you gestured to the bedside table beside you. He raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t do this much, I’m just prepared,” you sassed. He laughed lowly. 

“I like it,” he admitted, reaching in and tearing one off the strip. You took his distracted gaze to reach between your thighs and touch him. You wrapped your hand around his length, noting the size and width and suddenly salivating for a taste. He was shaking his head though, as if he could read your mind, shooing your hand away. “I won’t last. But next time,” he assured you. You felt your heart rate spike again.  _ Next time _ ? 

He tore open the package and you watched with hungry eyes as slid the rubber down over himself with the ease of a man who’d done it many times. Once again you were sure that shouldn’t be a turn on but you wondered if your age played a role. He was much older than you and being with an experienced man was definitely a turn on. Maybe something worth sharing later, you thought briefly before he settled over you, taking himself in hand and sliding the blunt head of his length against your folds. 

You weren’t shy in your moans and he didn’t wait. Finding your eyes before bowing his head to watch himself, he pushed inside you, filling you so achingly slowly you could hardly handle the wait. It was a delicious intrusion. He was just the right size to give you just the right amount of stretch and the curve but your walls just right. You were groaning low and deeply from your soul as you absorbed the feeling of being full as he settled inside you. 

“Aw Jesus,” he huffed against your neck as he settled down against you, on his elbows above your body. He kissed you slowly as he gave you a moment to adjust before pulling out and pushing back in with a swift roll of his hips. Your following cry was one of true need and he wasted no time in picking up a punishing rhythm. 

He was generous with his words, curses falling from his lips often. He didn't silence his grunts and moans and you weren't sure what you wanted to hear more. Pressing your heels into the bed, you thrust up to meet him, relishing the slide of his length in and out of your body. 

He bit down your collarbone and up your shoulder. You knew he was littering bruises but you didn't care. It felt too good. You clawed at his back with your nails, holding him against you as you tried to ground yourself. It only worked until he pressed up with an ease that was sinful and flipped you into your belly. 

Your surprised squeak and giggles filled the room but you went willingly, landing on your belly. Chris tilted your hips up just slightly before placing a hard smack to the round flesh. You cried out and felt the gush between your legs.  _ Oh fuck _ . 

“Look at this ass,” he murmured, dropping his lips to the skin. He tugged it with his teeth and you gasped, only to be assaulted further with the loss of his mouth and the slide of his cock back between your folds. It was tighter from this position and  _ oh God _ he fit so well.

He held himself up over you, your ass flush to his pelvis every time he thrust inside. His heat surrounded you, warming you. The slide of his length was too much and just a few thrusts later you could feel yourself starting to grow tight, that feeling of your next orgasm beginning to grow deep in your belly. You gasped and begged and he delivered with almost painful, perfectly rough thrusts. You were on the edge, so so close. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he gasped through his own exertion, “I could stare at this ass all night,  _ fuck _ , I just want... _ oh fuck _ ,” his words were broken as you came, pulsing around him and burying your face in the sheets. 

You took him over with you, his guttural cry almost enough to spiral your orgasm out of control. His pace stuttered and he stilled for a moment then gave you two or three good thrusts before he sagged against your back, crushing you in the best way. 

Time passed slowly as you both tried to catch your breath. He pulled out as he started to soften but stayed against you, puffs of his breath warming your ear. 

“Shit…” he spoke first, bringing out a small giggle from you. “That was fuckin’ good, baby. You’re sexy as hell,” he complimented genuinely. You blushed hard against the sheets. 

“Thank you,” you murmured as he pushed off, rolling onto his back. You took the opportunity in your more sober mind now to roll to look at him. He looked so relaxed now, content just laying in your bed on the disaster of sheets you two had created. His chest rose and fell with slower breaths and when you finally raised your eyes from the ink there, you realized he’d been watching you stare. That blush seemed permanent now. 

“We need to do this again,” he said then, surprising you. “I’m traveling for the next two weeks but when I get back, can I give you a call?” 

Your eyes met as you nodded despite your surprise at the request. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” he leaned in for a slow kiss before rolling to stand. You watched from your curled up place on your bed. “You can stay, if you want,” you heard yourself offering before you could stop. He pulled the condom off slowly, tying it before giving you a smile. It was a very vulnerable moment to watch him and you suddenly felt the specialness of the night. 

“Trash?” he asked before he answered your question. You pointed to the en suite and he disappeared for a moment before returning and grabbing his jeans. “I’d love to but I got my dog at home,” he explained and you weren’t sure if it was a cover or genuine and you didn’t allow yourself to get caught up in it. “But next time maybe,” he added with a soft grin as he pulled his jeans on and reached for his shirt. 

You pushed yourself up, finding new panties and a college tee shirt in your drawer. “Okay,” you replied amicably as you dressed yourself to see him out. You felt wobbly on your feet. Great sex would do that, you thought to yourself. 

Small talk carried you to the door. You didn’t press for anything as you gave him your number. He tucked his phone away and cupped your cheek with one big hand for a tender kiss. You felt the earth move under your feet before he pulled away. “I’ll call you when I get back,” he reiterated. You nodded. 

“Be safe. Goodnight,” you murmured with a small wave as he stepped out. You watched him go before shutting the door, locking it and heading back to bed. You stopped for water and thought over your evening and the wild turn it took. You’d have a headache tomorrow but it was so fucking worth it. 

\------

Chris texted you the next morning, reiterating his enjoyment of the night before. You kept your reply simple, not wanting to seem too overzealous. It seemed to work because he texted you again a few days later to tell you he was still thinking about you. Casual texts back and forth carried over two weeks, mostly mindless items about work, pictures of coffee or sights you thought the other would appreciate as you grew to know one another. And as he’d told you he would, he called the week he got back to town. 

Round two was similar to round one. Almost too many drinks ending with a rough romp at your place again. He didn’t stay the night but he stayed to cuddle for a while, asking about your work and hobbies. You began to ask him about himself, though it was slow. And you were careful to never ask too personal of questions or too much about his work. 

The months carried on like this. He’d leave for a few weeks or he’d be busy with work and then he’d call. It became less about drinks and more about hanging out. Movies at his place became a thing. You didn’t stay after because you didn’t want to overstep. And he seemed to appreciate that. Three months into your arrangement he stayed the night at your place and you drank coffee together before he left. Four months later he invited you to spend the night at his place. The sex was still phenomenal, maybe even more so than the first few times because now you were truly exploring each other with trust. It was the most gradual of any type of relationship you’d had but you found that endearing. You couldn’t blame him; he seemed to need that kind of trust before things went further. 

You began to realize that whenever he was home, you were spending time together. You weren’t affectionate in public and your nights out didn’t necessarily feel like dates until the holidays rolled around. The wintery season seemed to inspire a change in him. He grew sweeter, softer with you. The sex didn’t change but he took you out on “a real date”, as he’d called it. “Only if you want to,” he added quickly. You finally allowed yourself to feel the feelings you hid well. You beamed when you agreed to the date. 

You met his brother and sisters out one night. He invited them out closer to Christmas and asked you to come along. Trivia at a local bar was a blast and you realized how truly close Chris was to his family. He was no longer Chris Evans the actor to you. That had dissipated somewhere along the way. He became  _ your Chris _ . And his siblings embraced you. 

January came quickly and with it came your birthday. You were anticipating it, turning twenty-four felt like a big deal. You knew the age difference between yourself and Chris was roughly fifteen years but that didn’t bother you -- you knew plenty of people who shared similar differences and were happy. You realized too late, however, that maybe Chris didn’t feel the same. 

\----

“So The Palm at nine tonight, right?” You confirmed as you thumbed through dresses at a Boston boutique, your heart thudding away in excitement. Wednesday had been your actual birthday but Chris had made reservations for Saturday to celebrate at The Palm Boston to treat you and celebrate. You were practically vibrating out of your skin with anticipation. 

“Yes ma’am,” he replied over the phone, “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be ready,” you all but exclaimed. He laughed. He’d been in LA since the first of the month. You were  _ very _ excited to see him. 

You purchased a black dress for the occasion, long with a slit up to your thigh. You bought new heels too and went to your salon for a blowout. It was your birthday after all, why not treat yourself? You chose to ignore the fact this was the nicest place you’d ever been in your life and the man you were going with was well known. You wanted to make sure you looked the part of being on his arm. Normally you wouldn’t care but tonight it was important to you. 

He picked you up promptly at seven-thirty, blue eyes growing wide and hungry as you opened the door. “You look incredible,” he’d complimented. You blushed hard. 

He looked absolutely handsome. A dark blue suit with a white shirt underneath. No tie but you preferred it that way. He’d called a driver you realized as he walked your bundled self to the car, the cold air still sometimes shocking in Boston. A chilled bottle of champagne awaited and the two of you cheers to your birthday. It was then he asked the question that you hadn’t realized would alter your whole evening. 

“What birthday is this anyway? I don’t think I asked,” he inquired as he sat next to you in the roomy Towncar. You sipped your champagne and replied easily. 

“Twenty four!” You exclaimed with proud excitement. You hadn’t expected the widening of his eyes in surprise. 

“You’re twenty-three?” he asked then. You nodded. 

“Mmhmm. Have been all year,” you teased. He still looked surprised and then dropped his eyes to smooth his shirt. You grew weary. “Is that a..problem?” 

“I’m going to be thirty-nine this year,” he informed you as if you didn’t already know. “I remember twenty-four  _ very  _ well. But that was a  _ long _ time ago.”

You listened to him cautiously because you weren’t sure where he was going with that statement. Biting your lip momentarily before remembering not to smudge your lipstick you waited for him to continue. He didn’t. 

“The age difference doesn’t bother me,” you told him sincerely. “It doesn’t change anything.”

The car stopped at the door and the valet moved to open your door. Chris didn’t reply before you were helped out and you were hand in hand walking toward the door. Your stomach began to drop. You should have told him sooner. But he never asked. You hadn’t ever thought it would have been an issue. “You never asked how old I was,” you remarked once you were seated. The gorgeous restaurant was muted around you as your blood pounded in your ears. 

“I always thought you were at least thirty,” he confessed as the server assistant disappeared after filling your water. 

“Are you upset?” You tentatively asked the question. But the evening felt like it was going off the rails and he was looking over the wine list with a tense expression. 

“It’s just...not what I expected. You’re very young.” 

You opened your mouth to reply and then shut it. What were you supposed to say to that? 

He seemed to recover after he ordered the wine and you were hopeful that was the end of it. The rest of the night went wonderfully and he took you home and ravished you. 

Your hope didn’t last into that next week, unfortunately. 

\----

  
  


It had been five days since your birthday dinner and three days since you’d heard from Chris. He was back in DC working on his side project and you knew he was with friends and busy. But that didn’t explain the radio silence. You knew what the problem was. It had been weighing on you since dinner. 

The age difference bothered him. It had to be the problem. It hurt. You couldn’t change your age, and even if you could you wouldn’t just for him. It didn’t change your chemistry, the way you laughed together and got along. It didn’t change the way you felt together when you had sex. None of that mattered. You were in love with him, you knew it. And before your birthday you’d thought maybe he felt the same. Now you questioned that too. You couldn’t help the tears. You felt silly as you cried at your kitchen table late at night but you couldn’t fix this. There was nothing you could do. 

You called him late on the sixth day when you still hadn’t heard from him. When he answered he sounded exhausted. You immediately knew now wasn’t the time for the conversation but you persisted anyway, exchanging pleasantries and small talk before you blurted out the question that had been on your mind since he’d stopped responding to your texts. 

“This is it huh?” you pressed with a sad sigh. The silence that met your words was deafening. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” he began and you could hear the hesitance in his voice. “It’s been killing me the last few days. I just don’t know what to think right now. You’re so young. I remember where I was at twenty-four and I wasn’t ready for something serious and I wasn’t --”

“I’m not  _ you _ , Chris. Don’t put yourself in my place or vice versa. The situations are completely different,” you cut him off because that was bullshit. “Up until Saturday, at any point, had you questioned us?”

You were direct and you swallowed down the lump in your thought as he responded. “Not once. But you’re so young and I don’t want to take these years away from you or put you in a relationship you’re not ready for.” 

“I know what I’m ready for. I do. I know exactly what I’m ready for, who I’m ready for and what I want. Don’t you start telling me what I want, Chris. That’s not fair and you know it,” you spoke sharply, biting out the words in offense. He sighed heavily. 

“I’m sorry. I just…” he paused and you held your breath. “I don’t know what I want to do, okay? I need to think about this. Can you just give me some time? I promise I’ll call you when I know how I feel about this.” 

Where did that leave you until then? You had no idea. “Okay,” you simply said, fighting back the inevitable tears. You swallowed hard. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” 

“Me too.” Your eyes burned as you hung up on the call. That hurt.  _ A lot _ . 

\----

It was a week before you heard from him again. A long, miserable week. You had wanted to reach out, you’d drafted up several texts ranging from “I miss you” to “just end it, will ya?” but each one went unsent. You’d wait until he reached out. And go from there. 

He finally did exactly a week later from your last phone conversation. It was a simple text that gave you no indication where you stood. The tears were immediate upon reading it and you wondered how you had any left at this point. 

_ “Can I see you?”  _

Your initial thought was  _ great, he’s nice enough to break up with me face to face. _ You wiped your tears and took a deep breath before you typed back, “ _ Sure. When?” _

_ “Tonight? I’d like to come over if I can if that’s okay.” _

You replied with your consent and he said he’d see you around six. You spent the day trying to get some things done and willing time to fly so it could just be done. When the knock came at five of six o’clock, you steeled yourself and pulled open the door. 

Chris stood there with a bouquet of yellow roses and a somber look on his handsome face. Your eyes met and your heart  _ hurt _ . You swallowed hard and welcomed him into your place silently. 

You shut the door and willed yourself to hold it together. It was painful knowing this had to do with your age, something you couldn’t change or fix. But just as your friends had been saying all week -- if he can’t handle it, you didn’t want him anyway. You were better off without him. 

You put your shoulders back and turned to face him, surprised by the emotions on his own face. Before you could speak he was talking, voice cracking occasionally as he spoke. 

“I’m an asshole,” he began, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it at first. I got so caught up in a number, in worrying about things I shouldn’t have been worrying about and focusing too much on what people might think or say. I missed you so fuckin’ much these last couple weeks. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” his voice cracked on the last word and your heart went with it. You waited, unsure of what exactly he was getting at, wondering if you were both on the same page. “Can we try this again? The right way? Without me being a big dumb jerk?” 

The tears you’d been fighting rushed to the service. Not trusting your voice, you nodded and sprinted the feet between you. He caught you as you jumped, arms tight around your waist despite the flowers. You cried freely into his neck as he cried against your ear. You felt the wetness on your skin and you cried hard. 

“I missed you so much,” you sobbed, “you really fucking hurt me.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” he murmured through his own tears, “I’m so sorry. I’ve got you, sweetheart, don’t worry. This time will be different, and real. Solid. I promise.” 

You pulled away at his promise to press your lips to his. Salty tears mingled with your lips, but neither of you cared. He set the flowers down on your kitchen table without parting from you, both hands securing you to his body. Your toes found the floor again but it only allowed you to deepen the kiss. God, you’d missed him so much. Everything about him, the smell, the feel, his kisses. He held you close, hand gripping your hip as the other fisted your tee shirt at the hem. You knew you two should talk more first. But something about simply being together, touching was so much more comforting. He came back for you. 

You pushed him back toward you couch, open and facing the direction you were. His knees buckled as he hit it, sending him to a sitting position. You had to be as close to him as possible, to know he was there and it was  _ real _ . He seemed to agree, his hands fussing your shirt over your head as continued mumbling his apologies against your lips. Your clothes were gone quickly and you pulled at his until they were strewn about your living room. You flipped his hat off his head, laughing a little at the messed up fluff underneath. His cheeks reddened under the tear streaks, his eyes closing as you ran your hands through his hair. Settling against his lap, his hard length trapped between you, your fingers traveled over the expanse of his tattooed chest, tracing the lines over his heart in particular. Your eyes danced over the ink and the freckles that covered the rest of his skin. He watched you, eyes flickering between your fingers and your eyes. 

“Still like them?” he echoed of months ago, the first time you’d seen them. You placed your hand over his heart as you raised your eyes to his. 

“I love them,” you replied with every bit of emotion you had within. You shared an intense moment, his gaze telling you he knew what you meant by your words before he crashed his lips into yours. It was frantic, almost messy, and you hated to part for a condom. It was just another moment for watery laughs as you told him you’d be right back, sprinting naked to your bedside table. Retrieving the condom, you ran back to find him lazily stroking himself as he waited. You stopped to drink in the sight. It was beautiful. 

“Come over here, honey,” he requested, his voice gruff and heavy with arousal, “Come put me in my place.” 

Heat rushed south in your body, you could feel how wet and ready you were. Your heart was pounding as you approached him, ripping the package and sliding the condom down over him. He groaned as if the sight alone was enough to make him desperately wanting. You couldn’t help your grin. 

You climbed over him, melting as he whispered, “That’s it, that’s my girl. Take all of it.” You did just as he said, sliding down over the head and letting him fill you inch by inch until you were nestled in his lap and he was stretching your walls so much you were panting, needing a minute to adjust. He gave you all the time you needed; his large hands glided over your skin affectionately as he waited. He was warm, inviting, and you felt tethered to him in so many emotional ways. 

The first rise and fall of your hips caused you both to moan, your breaths mingling as your mouths stayed close, your bodies touching in more places than not. On your knees on the couch, you had ample leverage to go as slow or as hard as you wanted. And you did exactly that. You altered your pace, your rhythm. You watched him slowly lose his mind, gripping at you in desperation. Every roll and drop of your hips seemed to rock his world off its axis and the sounds that slipped from him were absolutely sinful. You’d missed this intimacy with him and it was just as obvious he’d missed it too. 

“You’re teasing me,” he gasped at one particularly slow up and down. You grinned, sweat beading on your brow as you repeated the motion. 

“Taking my time,” you panted. He  _ growled _ . 

“I’m so close, I need you to come with me,” he gripped your ass, parting the cheeks and trying to force a heavier, faster rhythm. You fought it. 

“Then fuck me,” you leaned in, pressing your lips to his as you spoke, “Show me how much you missed being inside me, coming with me.”

Your pleas won. He shifted easily, one strong arm holding your secure against his chest as it wrapped around your back, the other helping him to stand and turn. He had you down on your back on the couch in a matter of seconds. One foot on the ground, his other knee on the cushion, he didn’t even take his time letting you adjust to the new position. His thrusts were swift, rough and deep. You loved it. You could feel every inch sliding into you then retreating, his body slamming into yours. The orgasm you’d been holding off hit you out of nowhere. You cried out and clutched his back as he murmured sweet words and carried you through it. 

He didn’t stop though, leaning back to watch your breasts bounce as his thrusts stayed punishing. His thumb dropped to your already sensitive clit, making your body jolt from the touch. You whined, unable to form coherent words but he kept on, determined. 

“Come on, darling,” he coaxed, his body shiny with sweat and exertion, his eyes flickering from your face to where he was entering you over and over at a scorching pace. “You’re gonna come with me this time, I’m almost there and I need to feel you,” he panted, “give it to me sweetheart, please….” 

You hadn’t been sure you could so soon but his hoarse voice, the rasp it carried made it unable to stop the growing need. His thumb pressed to you just right, rolling just the way you liked it. Your legs shook and your mewled but it worked. You let go with a sharp cry, your body bowing off the couch as you shook beneath him. You clenched down hard around him and it pulled him over the edge with you. You saw stars as the orgasm took you wave by wave. 

The next time you opened your eyes you were in a heap on the couch, Chris’ heavy weight on top of you. It was comfortable. There was no place else you’d rather be. He’d softened inside you but the presence was still there. You knew he’d get up soon to get rid of the condom but you were glad for his closeness for now. 

He pulled back to look at you, a big, gentle hand caressing your cheek and brushing your hair away from your face. You leaned into his touch, your eyes on his as you shared the quiet space between you until he spoke. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, kissing you three times before separating your bodies. He covered you with the throw blanket that had fallen from the back of the couch before going to toss the condom. When he returned, the two of you situated until your places were reversed. He sat against the back of the couch and you lay with your back against his chest, his arms and the blanket wrapped securely around you. His breath wafted against your hair and there was something so comforting in that. 

“Listen,” he started a little while later, breaking the silence, “I really am sorry. And I didn’t just come here to have sex as if it would magically fix everything. I,” he paused and you could feel his heart pounding against your back, “love you and I’ve been thinking about that constantly, warring with it because of my stupid hang up on your age. But that doesn’t matter anymore. I love you and I want to be with you, as long as that’s what  _ you _ want.”

You felt the telltale tightening of your throat as you processed that. You took a moment to gather yourself before leaning slightly so you could see him. His expression was incredibly soft and curious as you smiled. 

“I love you too,” you replied honestly. 

He leaned down to kiss you wildly, smiling the whole time against your lips. You knew this was a new beginning, for both of you. And you couldn't wait to explore what the future would hold, together. “I'm really glad that bar was packed that night,” he murmured into your lips. You grinned against his. 

“I'm really glad you came back and bought me that drink,” you bantered. 

“Oh, that's right. Because you weren't gonna come up to me,” he remembered. You laughed. 

“Hell no. You want it, you come get it.”

“Does that still apply now, baby?” He dropped a few kisses to your bare shoulder. You flushed. 

“You know it.” 

**Author's Note:**

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